


Play-doh and Pizza

by Kangofu_CB



Series: MFD Prompts [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dad Clint Barton, Kid Fic, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, SHIELD Agent Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: It’s supposed to be Clint’s weekend off. Bobbi’s supposed to have Liam, and Clint has something important planned, except he’s forgot what it is.





	Play-doh and Pizza

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Clara for the super sweet prompt!!! I had fun playing around with this kidfic idea, although it’s not a topic I usually get into! I hope you like Liam as much as I do!

Clint groaned and rolled over, reaching for the phone that was vibrating near his head. Bobbi’s contact info was shining, blindingly bright in the darkness of his bedroom, but he didn’t have his aids in to answer it. He slid the  _ accept _ button anyway.

 

“Don’t have my ears in,” he mumbled into the phone. “Text me.”

 

He hung up.

 

The phone buzzed again a few minutes later, a text message lit up across the screen.

 

_ OMW with Liam. Got called out. Unsure of the timeline. ETA 15. _

 

The time on the phone let him know it was 4:30 in the morning. Clint groaned into his pillow. The kid was never going to go back to sleep, because he was Bobbi’s kid, through and through, in that respect, unlike Clint who could and would sleep anytime and anywhere. Liam would be up for the remainder of the day, probably wouldn’t nap, and then would fight bedtime tooth and nail. 

 

Clint rolled out of the bed and dragged himself to the coffee maker, scooping the grounds with abandon. It was going to be a very long day. 

 

**

 

“Hi Dad!” Liam said, from Bobbi’s shoulder, where he was still in his footie space pajamas with his blonde hair a wild mess.

 

Unable to help the smile that creased his face, Clint reached out to take him from his mother. She handed over his overnight backpack at the same time.

 

“Sorry about this,” Bobbi said, and to her credit, she did sound genuinely remorseful. Liam had only just started spending nights at her house, about one weekend a month, and it had been enough of an adjustment period that this could very well unsettle it entirely.

 

“Duty calls,” Clint said, waving her off. “It happens. Can’t say I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in, but I’ll live.” There was something else, niggling at the back of his mind, but Clint was still too sleep-stupid and coffee-deprived to figure it out. He gave a mental shrug. It would come to him, sooner or later. 

 

“Dad, I want yogurt,” Liam informed him, squirming to get down. 

 

“You can have yogurt if you have eggs and toast too,” Clint told him. 

 

Liam would eat a gallon of yogurt and nothing else if Clint let him, and then they’d both pay for it in potty trips. 

 

“I don’t  _ want _ eggs and toast,” Liam cried, all drama, and Clint had to admit that he probably got  _ that _ from his dad. The drama, not the hate for eggs and toast. 

 

“Yeah bud,” Clint agreed, “but that’s the deal, take it or leave it.”

 

“I want a snack!” Liam insisted, but he did sit down at the table as Clint pulled out a single-serve yogurt for him. 

 

“It’s time for breakfast, not time for snacks.”

 

“Can I stir it?”

 

“Sure,” Clint agreed, handing him the cup and the spoon. Liam stirred yogurt, Clint scrambled eggs, and overall they settled into their usual routine, despite it being a solid three hours earlier than they usually started their day.

 

The routine lasted until about 9:30, which was far too early for a nap, but not, apparently, too early for tears.

 

Liam desperately needed a nap. Clint also desperately needed a nap. He was trying to hold off until eleven, and Clint wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

 

Liam was crying because he broke his Lego ‘robot’, despite Clint having reassembled it, and it was, frankly, time to break out the big guns. 

 

“Okay, who wants Play-doh?”

 

Play-doh, Clint was fairly certain, was invented by a sadist intent on ruining the lives of parents everywhere. It was also a guaranteed distraction because his kid fucking  _ loved _ Play-doh, and Clint needed at least two more cups of coffee and maybe a stiff drink to get through this day. He pulled down the box of Play-doh containers and accompanying toys, putting them on the dining table where Liam could go to town with all of it. 

 

Liam’s tears dried up instantly as he clambered up onto a chair in anticipation.

 

“Potty first,” Clint bargained, and the tears erupted again, Liam flopping into the chair like a boneless puddle and yelling about how he didn’t  _ need _ to go potty.

 

Clint sighed.

 

The  _ longest _ day. 

 

He managed to get the kid to the potty, sang the Daniel Tiger potty song,  _ wash and flush and be on your way _ , and back to the table for Play-doh shenanigans with only marginally more fuss than usual. Clint poured himself a fourth cup of coffee and wondered if he could go into cardiac arrest from caffeine.

 

Probably not, he drank way more coffee than this back in his mission days. 

 

Sometimes he missed his mission days. It had been very straightforward, going out into the field with a gun or a bow, shooting bad guys, and coming home to a bottle of booze or a warm bed partner.

 

Which was, of course, how he’d ended up with Liam in the first place.

 

“Dad, I love you,” Liam said absently, smashing Play-doh into Lego Spider-Man's face.

 

“Love you too, kiddo,” Clint said and decided he didn’t miss his mission days as much as he thought. 

 

There was, after a lot of tears, eventually a nap. Clint managed to stretch the morning until 11:15, microwaved some chicken nuggets and corn, and wrestled the kid into bed with a movie on his iPad until he fell asleep. Clint heaved a sigh of relief, and then began cleaning up after the tornado that was his son. Holy shit, how did one small human make so much mess?

 

Clint thought about his bedroom floor and figured he probably got  _ that _ from his dad too.

 

Jesus, all the bad habits from Clint and the good ones from Bobbi. 

 

Unfair, universe. 

 

Bobbi and Clint had been a one-time deal. One of those  _ oh thank God we’re not dead _ post-mission mistakes, riding high on adrenaline and the euphoria that comes with not getting shot, and either the condom had broken or Bobbi’s birth control had failed -- or both -- and nine months later, Liam turned up.

 

There’d been a lot of talking, some anger on both Bobbi and Clint’s parts, and a little bit of negotiation, but eventually they’d reached an agreement. Bobbi wasn’t ready and didn’t want to give up her career in the field and Clint-

 

Well, Clint was already nearing forty and edging towards field retirement anyway, and what was that in light of being able to be home and raise his kid himself. He felt like he owed it to Bobbi, who was younger and was, quite honestly, going to go a lot farther than Clint ever had. So Clint took a field retirement, taught close quarters combat and marksmanship to new recruits, which was a Monday to Friday, nine to five kind of deal, and took primary custody of Liam.

 

Clint didn’t regret his decision, like at all. He hadn’t had a gunshot wound in the last four years, and he has only had a couple of broken bones since then and the whole not-being-injured thing has been really, really good. 

 

Even if sometimes he did miss the adrenaline rush of being in a fire fight.

 

And his partner. 

 

Clint had been partnered with Bucky Barnes for just about as long as Bucky had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. A former Army Ranger, recruited by Clint’s handler after a crush injury with a medical discharge had left him with a limited range of motion in his left arm but a set of sniper skills even Clint was mildly envious of. They’d swapped each other off for shooting and spotting for nearly three years worth of missions, until Clint had taken his step back, and Natasha, forever Clint’s bestie and also the genuinely scariest person he’d ever known, had taken his place as Bucky’s spotter. She took ground missions, as well, when Bucky’s expertise wasn’t needed, and Clint loved and feared her in equal measures. 

 

Bucky, though, was something else. Something other than a best friend and a mission partner, something that Clint had stuffed down into a locked box he carefully never examined while they were working together, and only thought about occasionally when he was deep enough into a bottle for it to seem like an okay fantasy. 

 

Then Bobbi had happened, and Liam, and Bucky had been-

 

Well, Clint still wasn’t sure exactly what Bucky had been, other than distant. It was almost two years after Clint had brought Liam home and started training recruits before Bucky had reached out in any kind of meaningful way, calling Clint up out of the blue to ask if he wanted to grab a beer. Clint had sweet-talked Bobbi into taking Liam for an evening and met Bucky at the same dive bar they’d played darts in after work, and just like that they were friends again. 

 

And now, two years after  _ that _ , Bucky was back in his life in a big way. 

 

A bigger way. 

 

More like a different way, Clint supposed. 

 

It was like their old routine — the only thing new was the kissing.

 

Now, they were about three months into finally admitting there was something more between them than an epic bromance, something that included kissing after beer and darts, and sitting close enough to call it snuggling on the couch, and-

 

And oh  _ fuck _ .

 

Oh fuck, Bucky was supposed to be coming over. 

 

Bucky was supposed to be coming over this afternoon and they were going to have a quiet dinner at the house and-

 

Jesus Christ, it wasn’t like they’d made specific  _ plans _ or gone so far as to say it out loud, but Clint had been thinking they were going to take their relationship to the next level, a level that involved Clint’s bed and clean bed sheets and maybe a shower afterwards and  _ fuck _ \--

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

“Ahhhhhh!!!!!” Liam screamed, fresh from his nap and bursting with energy, and then bolted for the door at full speed. 

 

It was now four o’clock and on a scale of one to ten, he was at approximately an eleven. 

 

“Liam!” Clint barked, striding after him. “Do  _ not _ open that door!”

 

“I wanna open it,” Liam said, but he waited impatiently for Clint to get to the door and reach for the bolt. 

 

Clint unlocked the door then stepped back, letting Liam turn the knob. It was too late to do anything about this anyway, and the visitor could only be Bucky. 

 

It was Bucky.

 

Bucky looked good enough to eat, in tight, well-worn jeans that Clint had admired on probably several occasions, a red henley, and his hair pulled back out of his face in a low knot. He also looked completely bewildered as Liam barreled into his legs in welcome.

 

“Hi Bucky!” Liam shouted, at full volume. “I made Play-doh!”

 

It took a couple seconds for Bucky to make the mental recalibration, but he did it with startling aplomb, swapping what  _ had _ been a bedroom-dirty grin for something that was more friendly and open and directed at Liam.

 

“You did, huh? That sounds fun.”

 

“Come see my robot!” Liam announced, turning around and bolting for the playroom. 

 

“Hi,” Clint said belatedly. “Sorry.”

 

“Hey,” Bucky said, his smile going soft as he took in Clint’s general state of dishevelment. He’d never managed to move beyond a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair hadn’t been combed, and he wasn’t even remotely prepared for a date. Even one that was supposed to have taken place in his own house. At least he’d brushed his teeth and put on deodorant.

 

Bucky didn’t seem put off, though, just stepped inside and toed his shoes off, holding a grocery sack in his right hand and tugging Clint close with his left. He kissed him, soft and sweet and lingering, and Clint sighed into the contact, feeling some of the tension drain out of his spine.

 

“Bucky!” Liam hollered from the other room. “Come see my robot!”

 

Clint felt Bucky’s smile against his lips, and couldn’t help but smile in response, but he was tired and the stress of the day was building up in his shoulders again already. 

 

“Sorry,” Clint said again, stepping back. “He was supposed to be at Bobbi’s but she got sent out on some hush-hush mission shit.”

 

“It’s fine,” Bucky assured him.

 

“I should have texted you,” Clint babbled on, “but, uh, I kinda forgot you were coming over.” He winced.

 

Rather than looking offended, Bucky actually laughed at him. “It’s fine,” he said again. “I don’t mind. I can go if you want, but I’m not upset he’s here.”

 

Something warm uncurled in Clint’s chest. “No,” he said, “Don’t go. I don’t -- I want -- If you really don’t care, it’d be great if you stayed. Liam is wired for sound though, so it’s not,” he cleared his throat, a little, “It’s probably not gonna be what you expected.”

 

Bucky shrugged, held up the bag. “I expected to make pizza and hang out, we can probably still do that, yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.”

 

“Bucky!” Liam called, insistently.

 

Clint snorted a laugh. “You better go see before he implodes.” He looked at the clock mournfully. “Only three and a half hours until bedtime.”

 

Bucky leaned in and brushed his lips across Clint’s cheek. “That’s not so bad.” He headed deeper into the apartment, Clint trailing behind him like he was the one who was visiting. Bucky dropped the bag onto the breakfast table in the kitchen and then made his way into the living room, where Liam was practically vibrating, holding up a Lego duplo robot he’d built himself. It actually sort of resembled a robot, and Clint couldn’t help being a little bit proud. 

 

“Look!” Liam held the robot straight up, almost hitting Bucky in the face with it, where he’d crouched on the floor to be on Liam’s level. 

 

“Very cool,” Bucky said solemnly. “It’s an awesome robot.”

 

“Look, it’s got shooter things.” Liam made little  _ pew pew _ noises as he pointed at the pieces he’d meant to look like guns. 

 

“I see that,” Bucky said, and Liam dashed off back to the toy pile, where he lined up a bunch of smaller Lego pieces and pretended to ‘shoot’ them with his robot and knock them off the table one at a time. 

 

At least the kid could entertain himself these days. It made Clint’s life a tiny bit easier. 

 

“So,” he said, turning back to Bucky, “Pizza, huh?”

 

Bucky shrugged. “You like pizza.”

 

“I  _ love _ pizza,” Clint corrected him. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Making pizza doesn’t seem very... “ Clint stalled out, because he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound insulting. 

 

“Doesn’t seem very what?” Bucky smirked, sliding into Clint’s personal space. “Romantic? Sexy?”

 

Clint shrugged, feeling his face heat up. 

 

Bucky hummed, crowding further into Clint and wrapping his arms around his waist. “You don’t think I could make making pizza sexy? Maybe stand behind you and help roll the dough?” His breath was warm on Clint’s throat, and yeah, okay, when he put it like that, it did  _ sound _ sort of hot. 

 

Then Clint pictured it -- him in his sweatpants, trying to roll dough, Bucky whispering in his ear, and started snickering. 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky admitted, briefly pressing his lips to Clint’s throat, “Iit doesn’t sound very sexy, but I was really just aiming for something you’d like, not something to seduce you with. When I seduce you, you’ll be blown away.”

 

“Not if I seduce you first,” Clint shot back, and then started laughing outright. 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes as he stepped away. “So what’s the plan, since my grand romantic scheme is out the window?”

 

Clint shrugged. “The routine around here is usually dinner, baths, books, bed.”

 

“We can do that.” Bucky turned towards the playroom, where Liam was now throwing blocks with unerring accuracy - take  _ that _ Bobbi! - at a series of toys he’d lined up on the edge of the table, making blasting noises as they flew over the edge. “Hey Liam, you wanna make a pizza?”

 

**

 

Liam did, in fact, want to make a pizza. Clint produced a tiny chef’s hat and apron from the back of the pantry, and Liam proceeded to get flour on everything  _ except _ the apron, as far as he could tell. There was flour on Clint, Bucky, the cabinets, the table, and the floor. There was flour in Clint’s  _ hair _ . 

 

But Liam was grinning so wide it made  _ Clint’s _ face hurt to look at, so he could hardly complain about it. Bucky had very patiently helped him roll out pizza dough, helped him spread sauce and sprinkle cheese, and Clint was starting to realize how very, very fucked he was.

 

Like no, making pizza wasn’t sexy. 

 

Or maybe it would have been, if Liam hadn’t been there and Clint had showered and cleaned up and been anticipating some kind of action and Bucky really  _ had _ wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist to ‘help’ roll dough. 

 

But this was not that.

 

All the same, it was  _ something _ . Something that stirred the pot of emotions swirling in Clint’s chest, and all his previous plans to take this very slow, to try this thing with Bucky tentatively, to wait and make sure they were a good fit before he involved Bucky in Liam’s life any more than he already had - as a friend - were going out the proverbial window with each patient instruction and adorable interaction.

 

Clint was pretty sure his heart was going to explode in his chest.

 

He needed a drink.

 

Or something.

 

“Okay,” Clint announced, when the pizza was in the oven cooking, “bathtime! And then pizza after that.”

 

“I don’t need a bath,” Liam said, earnest and cajoling. “I don’t stink.”

 

Clint and Bucky both laughed. “You may not stink,” Clint agreed, “but you’ve got flour on your face and dough in your hair. C’mon I’ll put bubbles in the water.”

 

Liam sighed theatrically, but he climbed down off the stool he’d been using to work on the pizza, yanking the chef’s hat off his head. “Can you help me with my apron?” he said, coming to a halt in front of Bucky. The other man gently loosened the strap around Liam’s neck, easing it over his head and then untying the strings in the back.

 

“All set,” Bucky told him, ruffling his hair.

 

Clint nudged his son towards the bathroom, trying to swallow back a whole host of unexpected feelings. 

 

This was not how this was supposed to have gone. 

 

It only took a few minutes for Clint to scrub Liam clean, making him giggle as he got his ears, and trying not to get shampoo in his eyes because while the bottle claimed it was tear free, it never failed to produce a copious amount of crying. Then he let Liam splash around in the water while they waited on the pizza.

 

“Keep the water in the tub,” Clint told him sternly, the third time get got hit with a spray of water. Liam ducked down into the tub until only his wide eyes were peering over the edge. 

 

Clint tried not to laugh. 

 

He was sitting in the floor of the bathroom, mindlessly scrolling through his phone when Bucky walked in, wiping his hands off on a dishtowel and leaning in the doorway. 

 

Which was, by the way, extremely sexy. And domestic. Domestically sexy. He still had vague splotches of flour on his jeans and his shirt, and he smirked down at Clint from his - for once - superior height. Clint rolled his eyes. 

 

“Five minutes on pizza,” was all he said before he ducked back out of the room.

 

“Alright, pumpkin head, time to get out,” Clint told Liam, reaching for a towel.

 

“I’m not pumpkin head, I’m Liam!”

 

Clint lifted him out of the tub with the towel, setting him on the rug to drip-dry as he scrubbed him down with the towel. “Okay Liam, you’re not a pumpkin head. C’mon, pajamas and pizza.”

 

Liam insisted on picking out his own pajamas, finally settling on a mismatched set that had a moose on the shirt and superman on the bottom, and by the time Clint was done negotiating with him, Liam’s pizza was cooled and ready on the table with a glass of milk. And, for once in his life, the kid ate without complaint, had a second slice of pizza, and actually sat at the table for the entire meal. 

 

Clint was impressed.

 

Maybe he should do baths before dinner more often. 

 

Teeth brushed, Clint herded a yawning pre-schooler who was stubbornly insisting he wasn’t tired towards his room. 

 

“I want Bucky to take me to bed,” Liam said, around a yawn so big Clint was pretty sure his eyes watered. 

 

Clint blinked at him in surprise. He’d been putting Liam to bed his whole life, and Liam had never once asked for someone else. He glanced over at Bucky who shrugged at him, wide-eyed. 

 

“You have to ask him, kiddo,” Clint said, hesitant. “But he can say no if he doesn’t want to.”

 

“Bucky will you take me to bed?” Liam asked, clutching a stuffed tiger and staring up at him. 

 

Bucky glanced at Clint and back at Liam, chewing his lip. “I dunno kid, what do I have to do?”

 

“I just read a book and then lay with him ‘til he falls asleep,” Clint interjected.

 

“I can probably manage that,” Bucky said, sounding totally unsure but willing. Clint passed him a book off the shelf -  _ Going on a Bear Hunt _ , a perennial favorite - and crouched down to accept the obligatory hug and kiss from Liam. 

 

And then Liam took Bucky’s hand and dragged him off to his bedroom and left Clint feeling vaguely adrift in the living room. He scratched absently at his chest as he watched them go, then turned around to give the kitchen a critical look, and groaned. 

 

There really was flour  _ everywhere _ . 

 

**

 

Clint had everything pretty well cleaned up by the time Bucky came back, looking faintly bemused. He was pretty sure he was gonna be wiping powdery coatings of flour off of random surfaces for a while yet, but the kitchen was clean enough, and he was just collapsing onto the couch with a beer as Bucky rounded the corner. 

 

“Well, that was new,” Bucky said, headed for the fridge and a beer of his own. 

 

“Yeah, sorry,” Clint said. “I should’ve told him no, I’m sorry--”

 

“Hey,” Bucky said, sitting down and nudging Clint with his knee. “No, that’s not what I meant. It was fine. I read the book, he told me I did the voices wrong, I read the book  _ again _ , and then he crashed out. It was fine, no big deal. I didn’t mind.”

 

Clint blew out a breath, sinking further into the back of the couch. It was only eight o’clock, but he felt like he’d run a damn marathon. Bucky slid closer, wrapped an arm around Clint’s shoulders and tugged him up against his body.

 

“Sorry if I fall asleep on you,” Clint mumbled, relaxing into the embrace.

 

“Stop apologizing for everything,” Bucky said, and Clint felt his laughter against his arm. 

 

“Fuck you,” Clint retorted, but it lacked heat. 

 

“That  _ was _ the plan,” Bucky agreed. “But I think you might fall asleep in the middle.”

 

“I will not!”

 

A yawn punctuated the lie, and Bucky laughed at him again. He nudged Clint’s head where it was leaning against his shoulder, until Clint looked up at him, and Bucky pressed his mouth to Clint’s, the kiss soft and tender. 

 

Clint, like the competitive asshole he was, leaned into it, nipping at Bucky’s lips until the kiss morphed into a heated, live thing, until Bucky made a little sound in the back of his throat and pressed Clint over onto the couch. 

 

“Alright,” he agreed, a little breathless as he stared down at Clint from above, “maybe you can stay awake after all.”

 

Grinning, Clint rocked up against him, pressing their hips together, grinding his half-hard cock against Bucky’s hip. “I could be persuaded.”

 

Bucky leaned back down for another biting, aggressive kiss, and then dragged his mouth across Clint’s jaw, against the stubble where he hadn’t shaved all day, and down his throat, until he found a spot that made Clint grip fistfulls of his shirt and arch into the sensation. 

 

“Bed?” he suggested, and Bucky backed off a little. 

 

“That gonna be alright?”

 

Clint cocked his head, thinking it over. Liam probably wasn’t going to get up. He’d had an early morning and a relatively short nap and he didn’t get up at night very often any more, but even if he did, Clint would go to his room, not the other way around. “Should be fine,” he said, leaning up for a kiss. 

 

Bucky let him, but pulled back again to chew his lip. “So,” he began, looking, for the first time, unsure of himself, “I brought a bag.”

 

And, oh.

 

_ Oh. _

 

Not that Bucky hadn’t ever slept over before - he’d crashed on the couch a dozen times, probably, but this was different, and it definitely wasn’t sleeping it off on Clint’s couch. 

 

“Okay,” Clint decided.

 

Bucky smiled, looking way too happy about potentially spending the night listening to Clint’s snores, and he ducked in for a quick peck on the mouth before climbing up and tugging Clint up behind him. “Lemme go grab the bag out of my car. I wasn’t sure -- anyway. If I get it now, I don’t have to get dressed to get it later.”

 

Clint barked a laugh. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

 

He got a raised eyebrow in response, and had to concede to point. It wasn’t like Bucky couldn’t  _ see _ how interested Clint was, since all he had on was soft cotton sweats. It was fairly noticeable. 

 

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom,” Clint said, instead of anything else. 

 

While Bucky walked out to his car, Clint flipped the lights off in the rest of the house, leaving just the nightlights in the hallway, and headed for the bedroom, flicking on the bedside lamp, and debated a few seconds before stripping down to his boxers. 

 

Fuck it, Bucky’d seen him in his underwear before, and it wasn’t like Clint was in any kind of shape for a strip tease. Maybe another day. He climbed between the sheets, made sure the monitor was plugged in and turned all the way up, just in case Liam  _ did _ decide to wake up unexpectedly, and reclined back on the pillows to wait for Bucky.

 

And promptly fell asleep. 

 

Which he only realized when he woke up, probably hours later, with Bucky draped across his back, and the house dark and silent. He blinked blearily at the clock on his nightstand. The bright red numbers informed him it was just past one o’clock in the morning. His hearing aids were sitting neatly next to the clock, and Clint had to take a moment to smile fondly at them. The idea that Bucky had come back from getting an overnight bag, expecting sex, and instead found Clint passed out, then had taken the time to remove Clint’s hearing aids so he wouldn’t wake up with gummy ears twisted something in his chest in a sort of painful pleasure. 

 

Bucky was breathing heavily against his neck, deep and even with a slight whistle at the end that was almost a snore, and his arm was wrapped around Clint’s waist with their knees tucked up together. It was warm and tender and Clint was perhaps the most comfortable he’d ever been in his life. 

 

_ Yeah _ , he decided, as he snuggled further into Bucky’s embrace,  _ this was a fuckin’ great idea _ .

 

Maybe he’d make pancakes in the morning. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to both Clara and Lissa for the beta reading, and especially for reassuring me this doesn’t suck. If it does suck, blame them (jk!!!) 
> 
> Also extra thanks to Lissa for deleting all my double spaces because she hates them so very much, and for suggesting some truly awful names for Clint’s kid. 
> 
> You’re welcome fandom, I didn’t name him Flint or Fletcher.


End file.
